asked Paige.
“Yeah,” Paige said, scooping her breakfast into her napkin.
Wendy evidently was not feeling well enough to object, so after
breakfast we all walked to Crazy Mary’s house, glad to get out of the cottage.
“How do you feel?” I asked Wendy as we crunched along the gravel
road, passing the game room.
“Ugh, terrible.”
“Me too, but it was so much fun,” I said,
pushing the tell- tale heart incident out of my mind.
“I’m glad Julie is talking to me again.” She said it like it was
an unspoken thank you, and I admit, it was nice having that sisterly bond
between us.
“Yeah, me too.”
We walked a little in silence. I thought about Aunt Lori and Uncle
Butch, and how close they were last night dancing. How happy they seemed. Until
. . . I pushed the thought out of my head.
“I want to learn how to dance before next week,” I said. “I can’t
go slow dancing through life. I need to learn how to dance like your parents.”
“You want to learn how to dance so you can dance with Reds, huh?”
Wendy teased.
“Do not. Shut up.”
Wendy turned dramatically, mouth open, and put her hand on my
shoulder as if remembering an iron had been left on a hundred miles away from
home. “How about that kiss last night?”
I knew she was talking about my kiss with
Reds, but I turned the question around on her. “I know. Is Tommy a good
kisser?”
“You kissed Tommy?” Paige asked.
“Shut up, and don’t tell Mom or Dad,” Wendy said, big-sistering
her.
“I wasn’t talking about the kiss with Tommy, I was talking about
your kiss with Reds. I saw him kiss you outside last night,” Wendy said.
“Oh, that.” I tried to pretend that I wasn’t excited, but that
never worked for me.
“Yeah, that.”
I smiled. “It was good, I guess.”
Paige giggled and put her hand over her mouth.
“Don’t tell, big mouth, or else . . .”
“Okay.” Then Paige kicked her foot at the dirt. “Dad was drunk
again last night, wasn’t he?” She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her
shorts, looking down.
“Yeah, Dad was drunk again.” Wendy put her arm
around Paige’s shoulder. That was the first time I had seen her do that. Wendy
always treated Paige like she was a pesky little sister. “Why?”
He acts weird when he’s drinking,” Paige said.
“Yeah, I know. Mom said he was born with it.”
“With what?” I asked.
“The drinking disease. It runs in our family.”
“What? That’s not true,” I said.
“Is so, Mom said. Said he was born with the drinking disease just
like Grandpa.”
Why didn’t I know this stuff about my blood relatives?
“Did Grandpa drink too?” I asked.
“Every night. But he hid it from Grandma after she threatened to
leave him if he didn’t stop taking up with the devil. Craziness runs in the
family too,” Wendy said.
“What? You’re kidding me.”
“No, I’m not kidding,” Wendy said. “Great Aunt Pat goes through
queer spells every so often and no one can get through to her. Mom says she’s
just taking time off to find her brain.”
I shook my head in disbelief. Is this what I had to look forward
to? Bad blood running in the family? Would I end up like my mother with shadows
crawling over me even at night? Or, would I become a drunk like Uncle Butch and
Grandfather? I didn’t want to go climbing up my family tree with all those
rotten, broken branches. It seemed like my family was full of disease and
sickness and I didn’t want to become like any of them, not even my dad. I
wanted more. I wanted to write in purple ink again.
We walked the rest of the way in silence until we got to Crazy
Mary’s house.
Paige’s eyes lit up. “I’m scared.”
I looked up at the window, but I didn’t see the woman behind the
curtain. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Paige. It’s just a house, and we’re
here to see the cats anyway.”
I walked slowly over to the steps while Paige and Wendy waited
beside the road. I took the napkin out of
“Yeah,” Paige said, scooping her breakfast into her napkin.
Wendy evidently was not feeling well enough to object, so after
breakfast we all walked to Crazy Mary’s house, glad to get out of the cottage.
“How do you feel?” I asked Wendy as we crunched along the gravel
road, passing the game room.
“Ugh, terrible.”
“Me too, but it was so much fun,” I said,
pushing the tell- tale heart incident out of my mind.
“I’m glad Julie is talking to me again.” She said it like it was
an unspoken thank you, and I admit, it was nice having that sisterly bond
between us.
“Yeah, me too.”
We walked a little in silence. I thought about Aunt Lori and Uncle
Butch, and how close they were last night dancing. How happy they seemed. Until
. . . I pushed the thought out of my head.
“I want to learn how to dance before next week,” I said. “I can’t
go slow dancing through life. I need to learn how to dance like your parents.”
“You want to learn how to dance so you can dance with Reds, huh?”
Wendy teased.
“Do not. Shut up.”
Wendy turned dramatically, mouth open, and put her hand on my
shoulder as if remembering an iron had been left on a hundred miles away from
home. “How about that kiss last night?”
I knew she was talking about my kiss with
Reds, but I turned the question around on her. “I know. Is Tommy a good
kisser?”
“You kissed Tommy?” Paige asked.
“Shut up, and don’t tell Mom or Dad,” Wendy said, big-sistering
her.
“I wasn’t talking about the kiss with Tommy, I was talking about
your kiss with Reds. I saw him kiss you outside last night,” Wendy said.
“Oh, that.” I tried to pretend that I wasn’t excited, but that
never worked for me.
“Yeah, that.”
I smiled. “It was good, I guess.”
Paige giggled and put her hand over her mouth.
“Don’t tell, big mouth, or else . . .”
“Okay.” Then Paige kicked her foot at the dirt. “Dad was drunk
again last night, wasn’t he?” She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her
shorts, looking down.
“Yeah, Dad was drunk again.” Wendy put her arm
around Paige’s shoulder. That was the first time I had seen her do that. Wendy
always treated Paige like she was a pesky little sister. “Why?”
He acts weird when he’s drinking,” Paige said.
“Yeah, I know. Mom said he was born with it.”
“With what?” I asked.
“The drinking disease. It runs in our family.”
“What? That’s not true,” I said.
“Is so, Mom said. Said he was born with the drinking disease just
like Grandpa.”
Why didn’t I know this stuff about my blood relatives?
“Did Grandpa drink too?” I asked.
“Every night. But he hid it from Grandma after she threatened to
leave him if he didn’t stop taking up with the devil. Craziness runs in the
family too,” Wendy said.
“What? You’re kidding me.”
“No, I’m not kidding,” Wendy said. “Great Aunt Pat goes through
queer spells every so often and no one can get through to her. Mom says she’s
just taking time off to find her brain.”
I shook my head in disbelief. Is this what I had to look forward
to? Bad blood running in the family? Would I end up like my mother with shadows
crawling over me even at night? Or, would I become a drunk like Uncle Butch and
Grandfather? I didn’t want to go climbing up my family tree with all those
rotten, broken branches. It seemed like my family was full of disease and
sickness and I didn’t want to become like any of them, not even my dad. I
wanted more. I wanted to write in purple ink again.
We walked the rest of the way in silence until we got to Crazy
Mary’s house.
Paige’s eyes lit up. “I’m scared.”
I looked up at the window, but I didn’t see the woman behind the
curtain. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Paige. It’s just a house, and we’re
here to see the cats anyway.”
I walked slowly over to the steps while Paige and Wendy waited
beside the road. I took the napkin out of
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